


We're friends, Right? - DreamNotFound

by Rottensmilez



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Dialogue Heavy, First Ao3 Story, George Needs a Hug, Highschool AU, M/M, My grammar is shit, No Smut, THeres a little bit of plot, dream needs to relax, dreams a golden retriever boy, george gets detention lol, george is almost bipolar, good morning usa, he never thinks before he acts, i cannot spell for the life of me, im doing this in class, im super tired, lots of speaking, no beta we die like men, second time doing tags, semi plot, sorry for that lol, yes im adding more tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 04:53:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29290149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rottensmilez/pseuds/Rottensmilez
Summary: “Never seen you. Why are you here? Normally Ms. Norman is nice to people like you.” He said, glaring George up and down. Despite the lack of malicious tone in the boy's voice, George shrunk under his gaze.“Uh.. she thought I was writing on the desks, but I was just erasing it. Didn’t she say to not talk?” George snapped back, looking down to the completely finished paper again. The boy next to him howled and laughed, and the hair on George's neck stood.“Oh please. She always says she’ll be gone for ten minutes, leaves, and never comes back. I could leave right now if I wanted to.” The taller grinned, sitting up in his chair and leaning over George. The brunette frowned at this, beginning to ignore the blonde and draw on his paper.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 86





	We're friends, Right? - DreamNotFound

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! this is my first story on AO3 and I'm really excited to share it with you <3 constructive criticism is appreciated in the comments! Please be nice, since I'm trying my best to make this as perfect as possible :)

George sighed, tapping his pencil nervously against the desk. The polished wood shimmered in the bright LED lights, every single dent and imperfection visible. Some spots were clean, others were dirtied with pencil and marker. Small drawings and words etched into the material, posing to forever leave a mark. Why do people write on the desks? He didn’t know. It made no sense- You have paper, use that instead. Right?

The brunette huffed and flipped his pencil around, erasing what he could of the curses and foul drawings off of the desk. Eventually, some had rubbed off, leaving eraser shavings and dust all over the surface. He quickly brushed it away, shaking the piece of paper his Teacher had handed him a few moments earlier. 

“Mr. Davidson. Are you drawing on my desks?”

George’s head shot up, looking directly into the teacher’s eyes. Her emotion felt unforgiving, and he frowned. 

“I would never! I was erasing the uh… er..” He stuttered, looking down at the faint remnants of curses and slurs. 

“Mmhmmm… Weeks detention.” She snapped out, walking over to the desk and pulling open a few drawers. From his seat, George could see the bright pink paper being laid out onto her table, and he burned with shame. Why didn’t he just leave it be? The writing didn’t concern him. He had gone to try and do something nice, and now he’s paying for it. So much for kindness defeats all. Some people pointed and giggled at his misfortune, and the brunette just sighed and slumped back into his chair. Hopefully this day moves on faster than normal.

Spoiler alert: It didn’t. Each hour went by painfully slow, dragging on longer than the last. 

Now, George groaned inwardly to himself. He had finally sat down inside of his second-hour class, where he had originally been given detention. There were only two other students in the detention, One of which was asleep. They all were in a row, side to side, in front of the teachers’ desk. She looked over at George and frowned, pointing to the table next to a blonde kid. It had a paper on it and George could safely assume that's where he was supposed to sit. Doing so, the brunette dropped his bag next to him and sighed, glaring down at the paper. The table was clean, with a few scratches here and there, opposed to his desk at the back of the class, which had been covered with disgusting drawings. At least he attempted to fix it. 

“Sit here, do the work, I’ll be back in fifteen minutes. Do not talk.” She ordered, swiftly leaving the class. Her heels clicking against the tiles in the hallway echoed into nothingness, bringing a sense of Tranquility that was shared throughout the room. 

George glanced back at the paper and frowned, reading every question and easily answering each of them. All but one seemed easy; as if to be a minute's worth of distraction before leaving the students to be fully bored and alone. The blonde next to him scoffed, and he looked over at him. He was leaned back nonchalantly, the work on the paper already finished with neat cursive. 

“Never seen you. Why are you here? Normally Ms. Norman is nice to people like you.” He said, glaring George up and down. Despite the lack of malicious tone in the boy's voice, George shrunk under his gaze. 

“Uh.. she thought I was writing on the desks, but I was just erasing it. Didn’t she say to not talk?” George snapped back, looking down at the finished paper again. The boy next to him howled and laughed, and the hair on George's neck stood.

“Oh please. She always says she’ll be gone for ten minutes, leaves, and never comes back. I could leave right now if I wanted to.” The taller grinned, sitting up in his chair and leaning over George. The brunette frowned at this, beginning to ignore the blonde and draw on his paper. The quicker he gets out of the conversation, the quicker the silence comes back, and the quicker he can go home.

“Oh, come on. You just met me and you’re going to ignore me?-” He teased, glaring up at the top of the paper. “-George.”

George's head snapped up and he slammed down his pencil, spinning to look at the stranger with fury in his eyes. The blonde visibly was surprised and sat back, watching what the smaller would do or say. George looked him up and down. Black jeans, stupid nikes, green jacket(?) overtop some random band tee, a weird belt. 

He was definitely an attractive guy despite lack of style. He seemed to know that too, by the way he smirked at the brunettes staring. 

“What? Cat got your tongue?”

George looked back up and scowled. 

“Listen--” He paused, looking into the blonde's eyes. 

“Clay.” He said, amusement pure in his voice. 

“Clay.” George spat. “I don’t want to get in trouble, So if you could leave me alone while you work and while I work, that would be nice. I don’t know how often you’re here, but I’m going to be here for the rest of the week, and I do not want to deal with you the whole time.”

Clay seemed in awe, his jaw gone slack while open. He glanced George up and down once more before closing his mouth, looking away for a second. This made George smirk. 

“What? Cat got your tongue?” George teased, looking back down to his paper to continue his random doodle of a cat.

Clay grinned wildly, leaning back into his chair and looking up at the clock. They still had about an hour left.

“This week will be great. It’s nice to meet you, Georgie.”

“Do not call me that.”

“Okay, Okay, Feisty.”

-Next Day.-

George stood up from his desk, wrapping his arm aggressively around his backpack. He looked around at the class and frowned, seeing that everyone had already pooled their way into the hallway. He had eventually followed, walking to his bright green locker that was covered in odd marks and fingerprints. Grimacing, the brunette spun the dial a few times and pulled the door open. He switched out a few books and grabbed the dull package that held his school id and wallet, slamming the door shut. 

“Hello there.” 

George yelped like a hurt puppy, eyes flashing to whoever was behind his locker door. His heart raced as the blonde laughed, clutching his stomach. 

“Oh my-- Clay?! What the hell is wrong with you?!” George whisper-yelled, waving by any concerned onlookers. The taller male laughed even more, reaching out and grabbing George’s shoulder for support. George’s face burned, and he looked down. Was he really so embarrassed that he was blushing? Or maybe it’s--

Oh. Oh no.

The thought was quickly pushed away when Clay shoved him, still giggling like a maniac.

“My god! Your-- your face was so fucking funny. You yelled! What was that?!” He pointed out humorously, and the red on the brunette’s cheeks turned brighter if even possible. He turned the opposite way and rushed to go to class, hearing footsteps rush behind him in urgency. 

“No, No! Wait, please!” Clay managed to yell out between laughs, grinning wildly. George just shook his head and ignored the troublemaker, continuing to stride down the hall. 

“Georgie, talk to meeeee!” He whined, and George groaned audibly. 

“You’re a pest. We aren’t friends, leave me alone. And didn’t I say don’t call me that?”

“Sorry! It just suits you. Why aren’t we friends?” Clay asked, much to the dismay of the brunette. This was going to be a long, long week-- if it even ends then. 

“Because Clay, we don’t talk. We only share detention together. I don’t know you- And to be frank? I don’t want to know you, either.” George huffed out, rounding the corner on one of the small hallways to head up a flight of stairs. His class was on the second floor, while Clays was on the third. 

Clay followed behind him closely on the stairs in silence, and George almost forgot about his presence until a hand grasped his own. He tried to pull away on instinct, but only got a tightened grip from the other male. He was too close. 

“You don’t want to be friends with me?” The taller asked. Prior to his loud and boisterous voice, he sounded small and worried. George almost felt bad for treating him that way. Almost. 

“I don’t. You aren’t the type of person I'm friends with.” 

“What does that mean?”

“It means you’re annoying, And I don’t like you. Leave me alone.”

This seemed to finally affect the taller, and George smiled at the feeling of his hand being released. The warmth from his side went away, and he could tell the blonde stopped walking. 

“Please and thank you.” He said finally, turning to venture onto the second-floor hallways.

“Oh- uh... Sure. sorry.” 

Alright. Now George felt a little bad. He turned around to say something, but the blonde had already disappeared. Well, at least he listens. 

He shrugged it off and continued to go through each class. Every single one seemed to go slower and slower until reaching the end of the day. George had just packed up for his final class and headed out to go to the most painful hour of sitting and doing nothing. He dreaded it, but after explaining to his mother what happened, it should be over with quickly. 

George wrapped his hand around the door handle and pushed it open, surprised to already see the teacher gone. This time, it was only Clay. They were still in the same seats next to each other, and he sighed. Maybe he should apologize for being so aggressive.

He did warn the blonde though. He made it painfully aware that they weren’t friends. Painfully, Painfully aware. 

This was too much. All George wanted was to erase the drawings on the stupid desk. Now he’s worried about a random guy, that he hasn’t even known for a day, and hoping that the guy wasn’t mad at him for George yelling that they weren’t friends. 

“Clay?”

“Hm?”

“Sorry.”

“What for?”

“Acting like a dick. I just don’t understand why you want to be my friend when I literally know nothing about you. You’re so… open. I could never be that way- emotionally or physically.” George murmured, sitting down in his chair. His backpack slumped against the desk, and he sighed. Of course. He felt like that right now, too. 

“Oh- It’s fine, I understand. Shouldn’t have assumed we could have been friends anyways.” Clay said, not daring to move his gaze from the paper in front of him. George frowned at this, Staring at the blonde for a minute. Clay could feel his eyes, and it burned. There was no other way to make it obvious that he was just staring. He looked to meed his gaze, and could almost faint. The windows were open just a little, golden sunlight delicately placed over George’s features. His eyes were slightly squinted from the light, but the sun brings out every beautiful fleck of gold and black in them. Freckled splattered beautifully against his pale skin, making a nice contrast. Clay hummed nervously and looked away.

George grinned slightly. 

“What was that?”

“You’re pretty, that’s what.”

George’s eyes widened, and he laughed nervously. Something bubbled in his chest and he was prepared to let it spill. His heart filled with warm flames, warming the surrounding area as it threatened to spill onto his cheeks. 

“Please, that was out of nowhere.”

“It’s true! You’re gorgeous.”

“Pushing it.”

“Okay! Okay. I’ll Back off. It’s nice to meet you, George. If we learn more about each other, can we please be friends?” Clay asked, giving the biggest puppy eyes someone could muster. George rolled his own eyes at this, nodding quietly and turning to the paper on his desk. He frowned.

“Sure, Sure. Do we have to stay here though?” George asked, Looking up and motioning to the empty room. Clay mentioned that he had left in the middle of detention before, right?

“Obviously not. I didn’t pin you as a detention skipper, George. Little troublemaker huh?”

“Oh shut up. This is boring, and I’m hungry. That’s all.” George laughed, standing up and throwing his backpack over his shoulder. 

“Where should we go eat?”

~~~

“We going out to eat again?” George asked. 

Clay shrugged. He stood up with a loud pop of his back, walking to the door. Eating after school at the diner or the park had become a daily thing. Today was Clays last day of detention, and he was ready for it to be done- even if he never went. They had made it a daily; Get food, talk about each other, and get closer. It had been about two weeks since he first met George. 

“What are you hungry for? Maybe we could cook at my house. Unless that’s too forward for you yet-- Then maybe Ricks Diner?”

George shuffled nervously, debating if it would be better to go to the restaurant or not. He would be more comfortable, but maybe it would be better to go to Clay’s house and show him that he was trusted. Plus, he did owe him for acting like he was a disease.

“Uh... We can go to your house.” He figured, trudging to the door. Something screamed at George to turn around and go home, but he still sat in the doorway with the blonde as he grinned like an idiot. A dopey, childish smile that George couldn’t help but smile back at. They walked side by side in the halls and down the stairwells.

“I think I can cook well! What should we make?- or, well, more so whats should I make? I can make spaghetti, steak, maybe even--”

“Relax, Breathe, Jesus Clay. Take a breath. Anything is fine.” George laughed, hauling his bag up higher on his shoulder. It was heavy as hell. 

“My bad. Uh, what are you in the mood for? Wait! What’s your favorite food?” He smiled wider, taking a glance at the backpack the brunette hauled around. Clay didn’t carry one, his stuff was always in his locker. He never had homework anyways. 

“Want me to carry that?”

George looked at him in confusion, cocking an eyebrow at the statement. The taller just rolled his eyes and stopped walking, reaching over and carefully taking the strap off of George’s shoulder and slinging it over his own. The area where Clay touched almost burned. George just sat dumbfounded, questioning why Clay took his bag and why his back felt so much better now. It’s as if the blonde knew things before he did.

“Thank you, I suppose. I can carry that you know. You don’t have to-”

“Shush. You looked so relieved when I took it. I’ll do this every day if you want. You’re already small as it is, We don’t want you shrinking more do we?” Clay teased, earning an elbow jab from the brunette. He laughed and rounded the corner of the sidewalk, glancing up at the street. 

“Oh, Shut up! I’m a normal height, you’re the scary giant. What are you? 7 feet tall?”

“I’m only 6’3, George. You’re fabricating. What are you? 3 feet tall?” He asked, pulling a serious face. The look on George’s face was enough to start laughing. 

“I am 5’8! Jesus, I’m the one fabricating?!” George said, exasperated. Clay laughed, even more, pointing at a house to their left. It wasn’t big, but it seemed perfect. George looked at it and nodded to himself, Both of them walking up to the door. Clay just burst inside, with the slow-paced brunette behind him. 

“I’m home!”

George glared at the blonde when pairs of footsteps came running, and he stepped backward. Two girls came running, both resembling Clay in some way. He nervously shuffled to stand behind the blonde, watching them eye him up and down. 

“Clay! Who’s this?”  
“Is he Nice?”  
“Will he come here often?”  
“Is he friends with Nick?”

Clay scoffed, ruffling both of their hair. The older one furrowed her eyebrows and smacked his hand away, pressing her hands to her hips. 

“I’m serious, Dimwit. Introduce us.” She ordered, and the younger one nodded.

George was pushed forward, and his face burned. This is so much, so fast. The girls look very very similar to Clay- Blonde hair, green eyes, freckles. The older one almost looked like a carbon copy of him.

“Guys, This is George. Be nice to him, he’s not outgoing. George, These are my annoying-” “Hey!” “-Very annoying sisters. They won’t bug us.” He said the ladder aggressively, and George could tell it was supposed to be a hint. The elder raised her eyebrows and shooed away the younger, snickering to herself. 

“Oh, I see! It’s nice to meet you, George, you’re very pretty. Glad my brother found someone attractive. Use protection and keep it down, please.” She joked, winking at Clay and nudging him. 

Clay jumped at this and shooed her away from himself, smiling nervously at George. 

“Please, ignore her.” He said, trying to push George’s backpack higher on his shoulder.

“It’s fine. I’m flattered she called me pretty.” George said with a nervous laugh. Heading up the stairs that the blonde pointed at, he oogled at the interior of the house. The taller followed behind closely, nodding to himself. Both their faces bright pink, They entered a small room on the left. George was almost in awe at all the things set up on display. 

It was small but cozy. A muddy blue theme, with a deep gray bed and doors. It mixed well with black accents like curtains, desk, and bedframe. George smiled, walking over and sitting on the blonde’s bed. Clay sat in a large gaming chair by the desk, and George admired the small gaming setup. It wasn’t anything extravagant, but it was obviously a pretty penny. He bounced on the bed slightly and laughed, Pulling out his phone. 

“Wanna order pizza?” 

“Sure, only if I can pay.”

The brunette rolled his eyes at this. Clay always offered to pay for everything, acting like he was the sweetest human in the world for it when in reality he would probably steal half of the food himself. 

“Fine by me. We better get breadsticks though.” 

Clay nodded and powered on one of the monitors, pulling up some local pizza restaurant and throwing an order quickly. In the meantime, the shorter had laid back onto the blonde’s bed and figured out that it was particularly comfortable. He sighed and leaned back into the comforter. 

Friday. He was finally able to relax and not have to worry about anything else going on. No more detention with Clay, a new routine, His mother wasn’t mad anymore- Wait. Why was Clay in detention in the first place?

“Clay?”

“Huh?”

“Why did you have detention?” 

“Oh. I draw on my desk a lot. She told me to quit but it’s just something I do without even thinking.”

The brunette paused any movement, looking up at his new acquaintance with a melancholy expression. His lips pursed in thought. They didn’t have the same class hour for the teacher, so there was somewhat of a possibility… 

“What desk number?

“Fifteen, why?”

George could see red.

“You IDIOT! I got detention ERASING your drawings on the desk!” George fumed, sitting up quickly. His face burned with embarrassment and anger, his eyebrows furrowed angrily. Clay just started laughing, doubling over in the chair as his partner stared at him. George started to ramble about why the world must hate him to let this happen, and it only fueled laughter. 

“You have GOT to be kidding me.” The boy huffed, falling back dramatically onto the bed in a starfish pose. His legs dangled off the side haphazardly, swinging upward when the taller joined him by falling not-so-gracefully onto the bed next to him, mimicking his pose. 

“I’m sorry! I didn’t know that we shared the same seat?!” The blonde wheezed out, jumping away playfully as a pale fist punched lazily at his chest. He only laughed more, reaching up to wipe away tears. George whined at this, attempting to punch him harder even though they lay down side by side. 

“Stop, you nimrod, it doesn’t hurt and that’s not gonna change. You’re a weakling compared to me.” The blonde chuckled out, running a hand briefly through his hair. George had stopped talking, and Clay could feel his deep stare into the side of his head. He looked over to meet the brunette’s gaze and grinned. 

Sometimes, George gets lost in thought. He’ll go quiet, stare at something until the rush of thoughts is over, and sometimes he looks at nothing. Often Clay will watch him--It’s not weird-- how he relaxes in a way that can only be described as pure bliss, only to come back into the conversation with full force as if nothing had happened. He learned to be patient and let it work itself out. He would take note of how the shorters eyebrows would furrow slightly, and his lips pursed together. Sometimes they would go back to a normal smile, and Clay would be able to see the small yet angry bite marks on the soft skin. He reveled in the fact. He could sit and stare all day; He loved George, almost to a concerning point. He felt as if they were closer than anyone he had ever met, and he loved it. He loved looking at George in the morning, sleepy and disgruntled, and how sometimes he would hold onto Clay’s forearm as they walked the halls because he was too tired to make an attempt to see straight. 

He smiled at the sight of George reeling himself back into reality, looking around to gather surroundings for a few moments. He sighed and looked back up at the blonde.

“Nimrod?” He asked, puzzled expression flowing over his features. The taller could just melt.

“Yeah, My friend Nick and his boyfriend say it all the time. You’d like them.”

“Oh. Maybe. If they’re anything like you, they’re insufferable to me already.”

The blonde grinned at this and nodded, Staring at the brunette and memorizing every single detail on his face as if he would disappear. He never wanted this moment to end- ever. This was perfect, just the way it was. It'll always be perfect with George. 

“George?”

“Hm?”

“We’re friends now, right?” Clay asked. He glanced away to avoid eye contact, nerves bubbling up. He hadn’t brought it up to George in fear of making him mad, but he desperately needed to know if they officially were close. He needed to hear it more than anticipated- The thought had dragged against Clay's mind for the whole time they danced around the topic, and right now seemed like the perfect time to throw the question. 

A hand gently slipped into his own, slender and cold, and Clay looked over at George. His head pushed tiredly into the blonde’s shoulder, and Clay couldn’t help but forget how to breathe for a moment. The sight was beautiful; Dark brown hair pressing against his shoulder, hiding most of the chocolate eyes that he loved so much. They were closed, and he could see the way the brunette’s eyelashes contrasted against his skin, bringing out the light freckles that splattered against his cheeks. 

He swore George’s cheeks were a delightful pink, but it was shoved away into the black materiel of Clay’s hoodie in a millisecond once the smaller had realized himself Clay cooed quietly, squeezing George's hand as an affirmation.

“Yes, I think we’re friends, Clay.”

The taller smiled, leaning in to gently press a kiss on the other’s hair. 

“Good. I wouldn’t want it any other way.”


End file.
